Three Musketeers Minus One
by tammy-loves-jerome
Summary: "I told him that I loved him, and that I was sorry, and I looked into his deep, warm eyes and he cried and smiled and I kissed him again, and everything was okay. "


We used to be friends, Fabian and I. Good friends, even. Back when it was just me and him at the house. Back when we were young. Back when nothing was complicated. Back before Alfie or Mick or Amber or Patricia or Mara or Joy or Nina or Eddie showed up. The two of us were inseparable. Granted, we were all we had, but we were like the three musketeers minus one.

Things were simple. I knew that he was the only one I had, and I was okay with that. It had always struck me as something special. Sometimes, I truly felt like we were brothers. And I didn't know what Fabian thought of our friendship – we were just kids. It didn't matter.

I remember the day that I knew that I was in love with him. I must have been eight or nine years old. We were sitting under the tree in the back garden, lazily tossing little pieces of gravel into the grass. He looked at me and told me that he thought that I was lovely. It was sweet, thinking back. He was just a child. I smiled at him and continued to toss the stones, not thinking much of it. Then I felt him tug on my shoulder, so I looked over at him, and that's when he kissed me.

It was quite shocking, really. Not only had I not kissed a boy before, but I hadn't kissed anyone at all. I pushed him off of me and he fell over. He was always a lot smaller than me. I don't even remember what I said. But I shouted at him. Called him disgusting and horrible, or something along those lines. He started to cry and ran away. And in that moment, right before he ran away, when I could see the hurt in his eyes, I felt awful. Like I was going to shrivel up and die. Like I was going to vomit and implode at the same time. Like I just wanted to make it all better. But I couldn't. It was too late. And that's when I realized that I was in love with him.

After that, I was alone. I had no friends, because Fabian had been my only one. Until a few months later, when a small, doe eyed child came to the school. Alfie. I made sure to snatch him up as soon as he arrived, before he could have the chance to make friends with Fabian and learn what a horrible person I was. He adored me, worshiped me, idolized me, and it felt so good. We wreaked havoc on everything and everyone.

Deep inside, I knew it was just a replacement. Because I still couldn't forget about Fabian, about the times we shared, even if we were just children. But I did my best to convince myself that it didn't matter, Fabian didn't care about me anymore, and rightfully so. Alfie was my new friend, a cover over the damage I'd done to myself, to Fabian.

New kids came. Two girls named Amber and Patricia. A boy called Mick. A girl named Mara. A girl named Joy. And that's when things started to get okay between Fabian and me again. We were older. Well, we were about twelve, but that's still older than eight. Everyone was friends with everyone. And I knew that Fabian maybe was still hurt by the things that I said, but he had forgiven me, even though I never even once apologized.

Then Amber and Mick started dating, and things got complicated. Suddenly it was all about who you liked and who liked you and who you had kissed. And Fabian said that he liked Joy, and then I couldn't, I just couldn't admit to being gay, or bisexual, or whatever you want to call it. So I lied. I said that I liked Mara. And then it turned into this huge thing. Suddenly, I was the one who was secretly in love with Mara and I was the one who was heartbroken over Mara when she and Mick got together and I supposedly cried every night over Mara. Mara, Mara, Mara. None of it was true.

Eventually, I couldn't stand denying my feelings anymore. I couldn't contain them. I had to do something, show Fabian that I didn't forget. I thought about it for quite some time. Should I say something? Do something? What if the only reason that he'd forgiven me for all those years ago was because he'd moved on? I had to prove to him that I genuinely cared. Show him that I was sorry. Tell him that I hadn't moved on, and never would, not in a million years. It was always him, it would always be him.

And then, one night, after everyone had already gone to bed except for me and Fabian, I kissed him. We were watching TV on the couch and making idle conversation, and I kissed him. I told him that I loved him, and that I was sorry, and I looked into his deep, warm eyes and he cried and smiled and I kissed him again, and everything was okay.


End file.
